


Just This Once, Everybody Lives

by avantegarda



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: aggresive wish fulfillment noises, but can you blame him, wow tuor got assertive here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avantegarda/pseuds/avantegarda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things turn out for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just This Once, Everybody Lives

They’d made it.

It had taken several years of aimless wandering, nearly running out of food a few times, and spending a rather hazy few weeks…or possibly months…in the Enchanted Isles, where time did _not_ seem to work normally—but they’d finally made it to Valinor.

Now they just had to figure out how to _stay_.

They had been called to Valmar to appear before the Valar in order to receive their judgement, on two matters: whether or not Idril, as an exiled Noldorin princess, would be allowed to remain in Valinor at all, and whether or not Tuor would be made to accept his mortality or be counted as an elf. The first matter would probably not be controversial, after their son’s labor. But the second…

“It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” Idril reassured her husband. “We have so many points in our favor…you’re Ulmo’s messenger, we saved as much of the population of Gondolin as we could, our son is the evening bloody star…they’ll have to at least _listen_ to us.”

Tuor sighed. “I know, but Idril, these are the Valar. Barely anything they do makes sense. And besides, they’re preparing for war; who’s to say they’ll have time to listen to one old man’s selfish request…”

“Not selfish,” Idril insisted. “ _Never_ selfish. You’re Ulmo’s messenger, Tuor, and don’t you ever forget that.”

They were interrupted by the sound of Eonwe gently clearing his throat. “They are ready for you now,” he said, almost apologetically. Idril and Tuor exchanged a panicked look, but followed the Maia into the council chamber silently.

Looking around, Tuor was almost reminded of councils in Gondolin…the number of chairs were the same, anyway, though the lords of Gondolin had for the most part been his friends, not terrifying gods whose job it was to decide if he lived or died. If Idril hadn’t reached out and taken his shaking hand in hers, he thought his legs might have given out from pure terror.

“Idril of the House of Finwe. Tuor son of Huor,” intoned Manwe solemnly. “You realize, I hope, your good fortune in being allowed to appear before us at all. A mere year ago, such would have been completely forbidden, and your ship would have been allowed to sink. However, thanks to Ulmo’s _tireless_ intervention on your behalf…” he shot the Vala of the sea a sharp look, “…here you are. And it falls to us to decide exactly what is to become of you.”

“We will begin with you, Idril,” said Varda. Her glowingly beautiful face remained impassive, but there was kindness in her eyes. “Despite your family’s tendency towards pride and violence, you have shown yourself to be a woman of rare bravery and foresight. Thanks to that and to your son’s labors on behalf of the peoples of Middle-Earth, it has been decided that you will be allowed to remain here.”

“Well,” Idril responded slowly. “I’m very grateful, I’m sure. But please understand that if you are going to send my husband away, I may not choose to take you up on that immediately.”

Varda nodded. “Your response is not surprising. Therefore, we must turn our attention to you, Tuor.”

“We are not unaware of your…unique situation,” Mandos put in. “And yet you must be aware that your request goes against the natural order of things.”

"With all due respect, sir, it seems that very few things that have happened lately fit into the natural order of things,” Tuor replied. “Princess Luthien voluntarily gave up her immortality. My son and his wife were able to choose whether they wanted to be Elf or human. And now the Valar are going to war and Earendil has become a _star_ , for goodness’ sake. None of these things make much sense, and yet here we are.”

An annoyed look flashed across Mandos’ dark face. “It is not your place to question us, mortal.”

“Isn’t it, though? After all I’ve done, am I not allowed to have some questions?” Tuor turned to face Manwe and Varda. “My lords, my ladies, I have spent my entire life doing everything that was asked of me. I have suffered, and seen my friends and family die and be sold into slavery. And I got through it, and didn’t do much complaining, because I knew it was what needed to be done. I have faithfully served Ulmo for as long as I can remember. And all I ask in return is that you not separate me from the only family I have. There is nothing waiting for me in the human afterlife, no one I know, no one I love.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to say something I don’t think I’ve ever said before, and I hope you will all forgive me… _I think I deserve this_.”

There was a silence. Tuor was glad he had stopped talking when he had, because he was fairly certain if he said another word he was going to start crying. Idril drew closer to him, squeezing his hand encouragingly. He squeezed back, grateful for her support. After several minutes—presumably long enough for the Valar to mentally confer with one another—Manwe raised his eyes skyward for a moment as if seeking guidance, before finally looking back at the nervous pair in front of him.

“We have discussed your fate, Tuor son of Huor,” he said sternly. “And it was not an easy decision for us to make. Iluvatar separated the fates of the peoples of this world, and we are loath to defy him. However, we have received no indication that this is the wrong decision to make, and therefore…Tuor, you will be counted among the Elves from henceforth.”

Idril burst into tears. Tuor thought he might have, too, were he not completely frozen in place with shock and happiness. They had dreamed of this for so long, even knowing that it was probably impossible…and it had happened. He would never be separated from Idril, and he would see his friends again. It didn’t make an ounce of sense, but then, what in his life ever had?

Smiling, Varda nodded at Eonwe, who gently guided the couple out of the council chamber. “You have, I believe, family here in the city,” he said to Idril.

Idril nodded, wiping away tears of happiness. “Yes, my mother’s parents. We’ll go to them.”

“And they will be overjoyed to see you, I am sure.” Eonwe smiled kindly at Tuor. “Welcome to Valinor, Tuor. We wish you well in your new life.” Before either of them could reply, he seemingly faded away, leaving them alone in the hall.

“So,” Tuor said, turning to his wife. “What do we do now?”

Idril slipped her arm through his with a grin. “Now, darling,” she said, “I think we live happily ever after.”


End file.
